


Girl's night

by fandomnumbergenerator



Series: Assorted femslash [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Past Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomnumbergenerator/pseuds/fandomnumbergenerator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally meets up with an old friend for a girl's night in.</p><p>A ficlet inspired by Drinkingcocoa's headcanon of Sally's first time (in Three Patch Podcast episode 9: http://www.three-patch.com/2013/09/01/episode-9-come-at-once/)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl's night

Sally opened the door, and hugged her friend. “Trina! Thanks for coming over. Glass of wine?”

“Thanks. Ugh. What a week. Derek has the girls tonight. He calls it ‘babysitting’. You are so lucky to be single!”

Sally raised an eyebrow at her and Trina’s voice went up about an octave, “Oh NO! You are NOT still running around with that nasty, rat-faced, white boy.”

Sally just looked at her miserably.

“Oh honey, you look so down. What’s going on?” asked Trina, suddenly serious.

“It’s that psycho consultant. You know how some people just know when someone’s a psychopath, like their skin just crawls. Well, that’s my reaction to Sherlock. And on top of it, he’s an entitled asshole. He announced to EVERYONE that I’d spent the night at Phil’s place. And he brought some poor guy with him, a disabled vet. Tried to warn the guy off, and now I’m the queen bitch. Oh, and our number one suspect got killed. We’re still working on the forensics, but I’m not hopeful. Anything involving Sherlock, anything incriminating tends to disappear or we get word from on high. I’m fucking sick of it,” said Sally.

“Drink your wine, honey. And I brought some of Aunty Lynn’s black cake,” she gave Sally a conspiratorial grin. “Remember that time we stole a whole cake and hid in your room eating it. The world was spinning!”

“We were such little hellions. My gran was just glad I wasn’t chasing boys.”

“She never did figure it out, did she?”

“I don’t think she even knew it was a possibility. And I'm just glad I didn't have to be the one to explain it to her. But at least we weren’t going to get pregnant," she smirks at Trina, who graces her with one of her bird-like giggles. Trina had always been the pretty one. All curves and almond eyes and a heart shaped face. She was the one all the boys wanted. Sally had the kind of looks that white boys liked. Hence Phil. He did have an impressive cock, but he was an idiot. A married idiot. And Sally thought it was possible he had a crush on Sherlock, a kind of secret admiration that came out as snideness. Fuck him. Or not, as the case may be.

"How’s your nephew, by the way? He must be, what, 15, by now?” Sally asked.

“He just turned 16. Things have been hard for him with my sister so sick. We do what we can to help him. But it’s hard, with our girls still so young." Trina gave herself a little shake, "I'm supposed to be cheering you up, not dragging you into all my worries. This is our girl’s night. We should have some fun.” Trina patted the seat next to her, and when Sally scooted over, Trina leaned in and gave her a soft kiss.

Sex with Trina wasn’t mind-blowing. They’d known each other too long. They knew exactly how to get each other off. Like an old married couple. Knew every ticklish spot and exactly how hard to lick and how to crick their fingers. But it always gave Sally a jolt of pleasure to see Trina naked, to see that same mole on her breast and the white patch on her inner thigh, but also the stretchmarks from the twins, the way her nipples had changed. It always made her think about being 14, and how they’d had to invent everything themselves, hidden away in her bedroom “doing homework” with the radio turned all the way up.

She curled up on Trina’s soft arm afterwards, and said, “Didn’t you promise me black cake?”

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of what I know about London is from reading Zadie Smith. Please let me know if I got anything glaringly wrong.


End file.
